dresden – december 9
this day we awake to lonna yammering about us all needing to get up and go for a walk with the captain.
so we do, some of us. and the walk is filled with a christmas spark. we stop and drink the glue wine at the christmas market on the way into the center of the city.
this city was absolutely flattened in horrific proportions as an example of the punishment for all thing nazi, by the end of world war 2. then afterwards, designated as east germany under soviet rule, the ruins remained devastatingly ruined. when the wall came down in the late 80s, some folks had the notion of rebuilding its original splendor. now if you go there it is impossible to imagine these magnificent structures had been rebuilt. it is mind boggling beautiful. it sparkles with the black sand stone and fresh gold leaf in the freezing sun. we opt for a tourist horse wagon ride to take it all in. it was the captain’s idea, and we are by his side all the way. then we lunch in an old dungeon. not bad. but the torture rack remade as a dining room table is to be avoided.
the long walk back to the bus and then the thick realty of my dad dying exactly one year ago to the day settles in and the rest of the day is saturated with his memory and our mortality.
before the set i wander off alone. settle in a quiet coffee shop, presumably while the opening set had started, and delve into coffee and a sip of single malt. oban for the occasion. think about the old man and where his dad came from, just down the road around Vienna, and how he never got to know him. i think about my sick sister now too. i think about all the people that have gone on, and all the people that have been born into it too.
when the scotch is sipped, i head back to the venue. it’s a bit of a saunter and a bit of a linger the way i head back. climb into the empty bus and think about the appropriate thing to wear for such an occasion. it’s a dark suit tonight. but not quite the black it was in berlin. that seemed more elegant. this was more somber and in remembrance. no one else knew of course. when i got to the venue it was over stuffed. dresden has always been good to us. it’s a very soulful town.
the way i found my way to the stage was singular. the band was no where in sight. i just hesitated for a moment in thought and then walked on alone in the darkness. i played the piano. made up a new song there on the spot. something about “ the notebook of no return”. the crowd didn’t seem to mind or know it was freshly birthed. i picked up the guitar then. i think i might have played “hatch” in my solitary comemmerence. the band seemed to manifest out of the shadows and soak into the song seamlessly. by now i was thick with the thought of those that have past. chris whitely used to live here, and his widow still does. she came to tucson to deliver some of his ashes as per his request. and chris had met rainer too. and he had jammed on a song for rainer with warren zevon way back when and they are all gone and all in this song now. when it ended, the normal set began to take form.
the evening was somber but the crowd was tickled. they can find solace in somber after what they have been put through through the ages. and we very much enjoyed each other’s company. there was an asian woman very far away that was settled in the next room by the bar. but for some reason the light hit her face jst right and so she was my friend for the set. her image and her smile and her acknowledgement of any of my dialogue. i would talk a bit, and then look her way and she would have a sweet reaction on her face. it was dreamlike and she was the evening muse that amused. the end.
when the evening was put to an end, my old leipsig friend and i wandered off back to that coffee place and had me a couple more scotchs. we talked of dead loved ones, or at least she let me blabber on. we talked of our history and the calexico weirdness since she was very well acquainted with all that. she pointed out that today was joe’s birthday, and that she met up with him on my birthday. some of the stories began to moisten her eyes.
these former east german generations just have a think and rich soulfulness that has a comforting warmth and understanding attached to them.
so. that was that. she headed off to drive home, but she drove off without putting her lights on. hope that wasn’t a problem. and i bought a falafal and went on board the mothership where everyone had readied themselves for the night’s journey. i didn’t beleaguer anyone with the day’s meaning, and instead took part in the discussion of the next part of the tour coming up at the end of next month. its sad and funny to see our tour manager take it so seriously and passionately. he almost begins to argue with every notion plopped on the table. then he relaxes after seemingly becoming puzzled by it himself, and we notice everyone else has bunked themselves. its 3:30 in the morning. this day needs to be done.
the end.
• - – — – — —